Who wrinkles her nose that way
What do I write that she probably might
Just snigger and and laugh away
She sits in a corner and thinks up the night
And dreams of blue laughter wrapped in delight
And tumbles in stardust and infant light
In a world so far away
I tilt up her chin, fall into her eyes
Where she holds the stars asway
A kiss to her lips; the scent of sweet spice
And sun-burnt mangoes in May
What di I write to a feather, a kite -that
Will unravel and take flight
What do I write to a dream, a sight
That's true and yet, not quite
Old memories glide in blue complexioned skies
New instances writhe in forgotten desires
That playfully stoke to bristling fires
A thousand tomorrows today
She drinks up the sun and wrinkles her lips
And smiles a glorious day
She hides a few sigh above her hips
They spill as she walks and they sway
What do I write to life's naughtiest rite
That will scatter in the ocean spray
And watch it alight 'pon wings that requite
The bonds of spirit and clay
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